


Not My King

by Trexi



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Era, Episode: s04e03 The Wicked Day, Gen, Magic Reveal, Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2019-09-16 21:21:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16961694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trexi/pseuds/Trexi
Summary: Arthur notices the enchanted necklace around Uther’s neck and Merlin succeeds in healing him. Crown Prince and Warlock find out the consequences of their agreement. (Multi-POV)





	1. The Exception

**ARTHUR**

Am I really letting this sorcerer near my father? Even if he does save the King, at what cost? A promise to free magic? How could I give my word on such a thing? If Father ever found out… I tear my eyes away from Dragoon and back to my father. Could he forgive me for this? It’s his life. Surely… Something’s wrong about this picture, and it isn’t the sorcerer standing over the King of Camelot.

“Wait.”

Dragoon pauses and scowls at me. “Now is not the time to be changing your mind, sire.”

I glare at him. He straightens his back.

“There’s something around his neck,” I say.

The sorcerer’s movement is far too quick for someone his age. He leans back down with wide eyes and pulls the King’s shirt aside to reveal a chain. Dragoon yanks it off my father’s head and grips the charm. His eyes flash gold, and his frown deepens.

“Congratulations, your majesty. You just saved your father’s life.”

“What do you mean?”

“This,” he holds up the charm and melts it to a crisp before my eyes, “would’ve reversed any healing spell performed on its wearer. Whoever put it around Uther’s head wanted him dead no matter what you did to try and save him.”

“And now?”

“And now you can stand back and let me do my job.”

I hesitate.

“You still do want to save the King, right, sire?”

“Will he know?”

Dragoon stares at me with all-too-familiar eyes and sighs. “Uther will never learn from me that you sought aid in magic. I’m sure Gaius would be more than happy to take the credit for his recovery.”

“You say that like he’s done that before.”

“Time is of the essence, sire.”

I let him avoid the unspoken question.

Dragoon focuses back on his task, eyes shining gold at seemingly random intervals, and my father growing less pale with every second. The sorcerer speaks particularly loudly in that forbidden language, and then he backs away with a slight bow. I look to my father who is breathing deeply, almost like-.

“He’s sleeping now,” the sorcerer says. “He’ll awaken within a few candle marks. You have my word.”

“Then you won’t mind waiting in my chambers while I have Gaius check the King over.”

“Of course not.”

“I can escort you.”

Dragoon smiles, again oddly familiar. “I know the way, sire. We did meet there, after all.”

“Right. Perhaps we should discuss that along with your reward.”

“I seek no reward for myself-.”

“Only peace for your people.”

Dragoon nods, packs his belongings and leaves the chambers.

Gaius soon enters and examines my father.

“It appears that Dragoon succeeded. I’m not sure a lesser sorcerer would have in his place.”

“There was a charm, Gaius, around my father’s neck. I found it before Dragoon could begin healing the King. Before destroying it, he claimed it would have reversed the effects of any healing spells. Is there a chance, is there any chance that Dragoon could have-?”

“I swear to you, sire, that he would do no such thing. Consider what he asked for as compensation for his services. It does not make sense to make an enemy of the one man capable of granting that just to get petty revenge. If Dragoon wanted Uther dead, he would never have come into the heart of Camelot in the first place.”

“Then I’m supposed to just grant his request? I’m not even King, and to go against the main values of my father once I do reign…”

Gaius raises his eyebrow. “Do you intend to rule exactly how your father does? There’s a difference between respecting your predecessor’s decisions while moving forward for what’s best for your people and disregarding those decisions out of spite.”

“You think I should promise it then? Freeing magic?”

“I think that I am not the person you should be discussing this with.”

“Right.” I shake my head. “Send for me the moment my father shows signs of wakening. You... You will be the one who takes the credit for saving his life.”

Gaius bows. “As you wish, sire.”

He was right then. Dragoon. This isn’t the first time Gaius has had to claim credit where magic was involved instead. But who has been performing this magic? Surely, Dragoon has not been sneaking around the castle the entire time. And how am I meant to handle his request? It was not one made out of selfishness or greed. It is certainly not one I can grant as Crown Prince. Surely, he realises that. Dragoon’s an old man. Would he even still be alive by the time I take the throne?

The sorcerer in question is leaning against the wall in my chamber, next to the window but unseen by those outside it, even if it were day.

“He will live,” I say, by way of announcing my presence.

Dragoon nods. “I expected as much.”

“Confident in your power then?”

“I am yet to meet someone who could match me in raw power. Skill and experience, many times, but never power.”

“Yet you live in a hovel.”

“Appearances are deceiving, my king.”

“Perhaps you are mistaken. You saved the King. I am still Crown Prince.”

“Uther is not my king, Arthur. That has always been you.” Dragoon turns around with a sigh. “But your time is yet to come. I have delayed it before and I delayed it again today.”

“Have you tried not speaking in riddles?’

The sorcerer laughs. “An old friend of mine taught that way of speaking to me. It always used to aggravate me when I wanted a plain answer, still does whenever I concede to call for his help.”

“So you choose to frustrate me in the same way?”

“It’s only fair for the years you’ve spent frustrating me, Arthur.”

“There you go again, acting like we know each other better than we do.”

Dragoon stares at me with sad eyes. “You are here to tell me that you cannot grant my request.”

“How-?”

“I know you better than you know yourself, my king.”

“That is impossible.”

“You would be surprised.”

I cross my chambers, trying to regain some sort of control over this situation. “I can pardon you for saving the King, but as Crown Prince I cannot…”

“That is not what I asked for.”

“You expect me to go against my father while he is still King then?”

“No, sire.” Dragoon pushes off the wall and closes the distance between us. “I asked that you give me your word to free my people. And you did. I never gave you a time to do this by, but I ask of you to start now. I do not expect you to change the laws before you are King, but I do ask you to start looking at magic-users objectively, without the lenses of fear and hatred that your father has placed over this kingdom.”

“But what if you’re wrong? What if I start looking and all I see is magic causing death and destruction? What then? Do you expect me to still free that carnage onto my kingdom? Would you not prefer me to grant your request to you now, in case I find no proof of the goodness of magic later?”

Dragoon shakes his head. “And this is why I never told you the truth. I cannot be the only exception, even if that means waiting for the right moment, for you to be King.” He lifts a potion. “This will reverse the aging spell.”

“Aging spell?”

Dragoon laughs. “I’m a lot younger than I look, sire.”

He downs the potion and bows like a servant, well overdramatically mock bows like a very specific servant. Dragoon lifts his now dark head.

“Merlin?”

He grins. “Told you I could take you out with less than one blow.”


	2. My Crimes

**MERLIN**

Arthur doesn’t speak for half a candle mark. In that time, he opens his mouth to speak countless times and promptly shuts it. If I weren’t busy trying to figure out if he’s about to throw something at me or throw me out of Camelot, I’d probably find his expressions funny. As it is, I shuffle from foot to foot, waiting, just waiting.

“You saved my father,” he says slowly.

I shrug. “Wasn’t the first time.”

“It’s the first time you’ve asked for something in return.”

“It was the first time you were willing to give it.” He frowns at that. “Look,” I say, “other times it’s been me and Gaius-. Don’t look at me like that; of course he knows. It’s been me and Gaius working in the shadows trying to defeat some magical or non-magical threat against Camelot or you or the king, though I tend to do most of the heavy lifting.”

“You? The heavy lifting?”

Well, at least he’s back to being Arthur.

“I am the greatest sorcerer to ever live, so yes, me.” Arthur goes back to imitating a fish. I sit at his table. “Most of the time, you don’t consider a magical solution even when it’s the only option. It’s like you hear Gaius say ‘this creature can only be defeated by magic’ and you go ahead and think your little sword tricks work when you’re looking the other away or knocked unconscious.”

“So you’re telling me that you’ve spent the last several years saving Camelot?”

I don’t think it’s possible for more disbelief to be ringing in his voice. At least he finally sits down across from me.

“Yes, but it’s not been the easiest thing to keep secret.”

“Why did you? Why did you keep it a secret? Why did you choose to save a kingdom in a way that would get you executed if you ever got caught? Why did you save my father when he’s the one that started a purge against your kind?”

“Because you chose to seek out a magical solution without being prompted,” I answer, but that only seems to confuse Arthur more. “There have been so many times when I wanted to tell you. I didn’t want you to have me executed or banished or end up distrusting me or anything like that. Most of all, I didn’t want you to feel like you were being manipulated. I have tried my best over the years to remain impartial whenever you speak to me about magic. I couldn’t risk influencing your decision in my favour or when the day came that you found out, you’d think I had some grand plan in coming to Camelot.”

“And you don’t? Have some grand plan?”

“No, Arthur.” I smile. “Since when have you known me to think ahead?”

“Do I know you?”

I don’t dare look away. “Apart from Gaius, who knew what I had done, you were the only one to recognise me when I had aged myself to be eighty-years-old. You were sure that you knew Dragoon, even if you couldn’t place it. If that doesn’t tell you just how well you know me, then I don’t know what will.”

Arthur breaks eye contact at that, neither of us speaking for a long time until he looks up again.

“So, you saw that I was willing to seek out Dragoon and decided I was suddenly worthy to know about your magic?” he asks.

“I saw that you were finally ready to accept it.” I lower my eyes. “There’s every chance that I might be wrong, though. If you think you are ready, then you should at least know the full extent of my crimes.”

“Crimes?”

“I’ve been breaking the law on a daily basis, Arthur. It’s only fair that you learn all about it before you make a decision, instead of me keeping more secrets from you.”

Arthur sighs. “Fine, write them down and have them ready for me by morning.”

“Uh...”

“ _Mer_ lin.”

“Yes, sire?”

“Just how much have you kept from me?”

I jump to my feet and back towards the door. “I’ll have the list ready by nightfall tomorrow.”

“Fine, just try not to use magic until I’ve come to a decision.”

It’s my turn to gape like a fish. “But-.”

“That’s an order, Merlin. Greatest sorcerer or not, I am your Prince and you will do as I say.”

“Of course, sire. I’ll start doing that tomorrow.” I dodge a goblet. “Really, sire. Do you expect your armour to be perfectly polished without magic?”

“One day, Merlin. Surely you can last one day acting like a proper servant for once.”

I sigh, supressing a grin. “I guess I can try.”

Arthur shakes his head as I leave his chambers grinning.

Well, I’m not dead, so better than expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter's kind of short, but this is only really the first conversation among many. This fic will be more plot-heavy than focusing on just the magic reveal, even if it's one of the main plot points. I can tell you now, it'll be far less angsty than 'Even Emrys Has Limits'. That's for sure.


	3. Price of Miracles

**ARTHUR**

The moment Merlin leaves, another servant informs me that I’m needed in the King’s chambers. No time to think about harbouring a sorcerer then. My first priority right now is ensuring that my father is alright, then I can worry about what happens after this. I catch Gaius’s arm on his way out of Father’s chambers.

“Don’t retire just yet. We need to talk about Merlin once I’m done here,” I whisper.

Gaius nods. “I expected as much, sire.”

“Just tell me now, Gaius. Is he a good man?”

“The best.”

I release his arm. I know I shouldn’t trust Gaius’s judgement when it comes to his ward, but it’s not like there’s anyone else who knows that I can ask. I want to trust Merlin, but he has a lot of explaining to do first. My father is still sleeping lightly when I reach his bed. There’s no sign of injury whatsoever, and I know that’ll be the first step in trusting his healer, even if nobody can know. Not until I’m King, not unless it turns out Merlin’s right and magic isn’t pure evil.

“I’m alive?”

I clutch my father’s hand and smile. “Gaius was able to work fast enough to save you, Father.”

“He truly is a miracle worker.”

Yes, it turns out Merlin is.

“I never lost faith that you would survive.”

Father smiles at me. “Even if I did not, I am sure you would have been a fine king in my stead.”

“You probably need your rest,” I say. “I’ll see you in the morning?”

“Yes, we can plan a tournament to take place as soon as possible. A show of strength, so other kingdoms don’t get the wrong idea about my being bedridden.”

I smile. “A good idea, Father.”

Gives something to distract me too.

*

“Of course, he suggests a tournament,” Merlin complains from the table in the Physician’s Chambers, head bowed over a long piece of parchment. “Do you know how many people have tried to kill either you or Uther in tournaments since I got here? Well, you’ll find out when I’m done my list. A hint though, so many people. From magic shields to disgruntled sorcerers to reanimated knights. Tournaments are always a pain, and that’s not counting all the weapons and armour I have to polish.”

“You’ll be taking care of lesser injuries too, Merlin,” Gaius says. “I’m not letting all these years of training you into a half decent physician go to waste.”

“I should invent a spell that stops me from needing sleep. Maybe then I’ll get everything done.”

Gaius swats the back of his head. “No messing around with that kind of magic. You’ll end up killing yourself and then who would perform all your duties?”

“Nice to know you care, Gaius.”

I fold my arms. “So Merlin’s just more reckless than I originally thought, then?”

“You’ll find that Merlin will always be more reckless than you believed possible, sire,” Gaius says. “Luckily for Camelot, it usually pays off.”

“And when it doesn’t?”

Merlin snaps the quill he’s holding, immediately fixing it with a flash of gold eyes. “I pay the price. But sometimes another person pays for my mistakes, or all of Camelot pays. If it were up to me, I’d take whatever the cost was, but magic does not care whether an innocent person or an evil one suffers, only that balance is restored.”

“I thought you said magic wasn’t evil.”

“It’s not. Magic is neither evil nor good; that lies in its wielder. Like any form of power, magic can corrupt, but that does not mean it will.”

“Meaning it’s possible that one day you could…”

Merlin carefully places his quill down and looks up at me. “Under the right circumstances, anyone could crack, no matter how pure their intentions were at the beginning. Just look at Morgana if you want proof of that.” Merlin shakes his head. “Or your father,” he mutters under his breath.

I automatically reach for a sword that’s not there. “My father?”

Gaius shoots Merlin a disappointed glare. “What he means to say, sire-.”

“What I mean to say is that everything is going down on this list, Gaius. Everything.”

“You can’t-.”

“I’m done hiding secrets. All my mistakes, all my triumphs, and all that I’ve learned. Arthur _chose_ to seek out a magical solution of his own will. He deserved to know before that, but now, keeping anything from him would be wrong and a complete breach of the trust that’s keeping me from the pyre right now.”

“But telling him everything may end with you there regardless.”

“I know.” Merlin looks to me with that blinding admiration I sometimes catch. “But I trust my king to continue on his path with or without me there to guide him.”

“You can’t call me that in public, _Mer_ lin,” I say, because what else am I meant to say to that?

Merlin grins. “I’m not that reckless, sire. At least, not right now. Ask again on a bad day, and that might not be the case.”

“My father almost died today. How is that not a bad day?”

“Because he lived.”

“If he hadn’t, would you have fled Camelot?” I ask.

“As Dragoon, yes. As Merlin, never.”

I nod. “I’ll be dining with my father in the morning. Be sure to wake me on time.”

Gaius bows as I leave. Merlin keeps writing. I stop myself from asking how far through he is. The list is already longer than I first thought possible. I may not be able to accept all that he has done, but I can at least see that he’s the same Merlin I’ve always known. Perhaps that will be enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uther's favourite solutions: Kill it, or throw a tournament.


	4. Standard Day

**MERLIN**

I don’t know what I hate more. Tournaments or the people who inevitably ruin them. Right this second though, I’m leaning less towards those two options and more towards the idiot of a King that I only just finished saving. But no, the Pendragon line are as insufferable as ever. This entire situation has Morgana written all over it. Uther’s made everything worse, like he always does. And Arthur, Arthur is this close to having a book as big as his head thrown at him.

“What do you mean this is the list?”

“I’m really starting to think being hit in the head all the time is affecting your hearing, _sire_.”

“But this is a book.”

“I’m surprised you even recognise what a book is, Arthur. And here I was thinking that you were only good for stabbing things.”

Arthur frowns. “You can’t talk to me that way.”

“I knew I forgot to add something to the list.”

“I’m being serious, Merlin.”

“So am I. I bound the list into a book to make it easier to carry.”

“By hand?” Arthur asks, that usual ringing tone of disbelief.

“Yes, Arthur, I spent over a day writing out that list then decided to bound the entire thing by hand.” I drop the book into his arms. “I bound it by magic, made it easier to place an enchantment on it so that only the two of us can read its contents. You’re welcome, by the way. I doubt you’d want to explain what you were doing with something like that if the wrong person picked it up. The only thing they’ll see is a list of nobles and their crests.”

Arthur flicks through the book without reading. “But the list really is this long?”

“Yes. Maybe you can get a start on that while I work out what exactly we’re dealing with.”

Arthur closes the book. “Dealing with? What are you talking about?”

I will not turn him into a toad. I will not turn him into a toad. I will not turn him into a toad. But maybe it’s time for the donkey ears to make a comeback.

“Did you really not notice the fact that your father’s crown has been enchanted?”

“What do you mean enchanted?”

“An enchantment is a special spell that lasts over a period of time, changing the behaviour of the enchanted object or person, or in this case, the object is affecting its wearer,” I say really slowly to get it through his thick head.

Arthur drops the book on his desk. “I know what an enchantment is, _Mer_ lin. I meant, how can you tell?”

“I’ve been spotting these things for years, Arthur. It’s also extremely hard not to notice that the same man who once had someone executed for so much as implying they knew better than him, has suddenly started to agree with every suggestion. Plus, his crown has been reeking of magic since the tournament’s opening feast.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me?”

“I thought it was obvious. So when you asked if the list was finished, I thought you wanted to be far away from me while I dealt with this mess.”

“Well, that just goes to show that you shouldn’t be left alone to _think_ while the King of Camelot is liable to agree to something more serious, like war with another kingdom.”

I raise an eyebrow. “You want to come with me?”

“What’s the point in making a list if you’re going to add to it before I’ve started reading the damn thing?”

“Okay, but I’m going to have to consult my magic book first.”

Arthur grabs his sword because that’s exactly what he needs to consult a book of magic, the great prat. “Lead the way, Merlin.”

“We’re really not going that far.”

He stays in his pre-battle stance. I internally sigh.

*

Arthur follows me up to my room. “Your magic book is up here?”

“Has been since Gaius gave it to me.”

“But I’ve searched this room multiple times.”

“And you almost found it all of those times.”

I reach under my bed and pull the book out.

Arthur opens his mouth twice, falters, and closes it. He sits on my bed, head in his hands. “That’s a terrible hiding place.”

“My magic staff is under there too.”

“Of course it is.”

“Don’t feel so bad, sire. I’ve been concealing my magic for my entire life. You’re just one person among many to not see what’s right in front of you.”

“I’m Crown Prince of-.”

“And if it weren’t for me, you’d be King.” I sit next to him and open my book. “Actually, if it weren’t for me, you and everyone in Camelot would be dead several times over. If you had found out earlier, who knows that you would’ve done, and how many lives that would’ve cost, including your own.”

Arthur flinches. “You think I would’ve had you executed?”

“I think there’s every chance that you still will.”

“And yet you continue to aid me and Camelot?”

“You know how destiny is. Every attempt to escape it ends in others getting hurt. It’s not too bad though. I do like a couple of people in this kingdom, maybe even a knight or two worth protecting.”

“Who have you lost?”

“It says here that the enchantment has an easy counter, but there’s another, more draining spell that will block the original from working again.” I flick through the book to find it. “The drain shouldn’t be a problem for me, but chances are, the incantation will be complicated, so it’ll take me a little while to get it right and memorise it. I’m better at instinctual magic. Makes precise spells harder for me.”

“ _Mer_ lin.”

“Here it is.” I wince. “This will take at least an hour. Early days, it used to take me all night, so be glad I’ve gotten better.”

“Who have you lost?”

I snap the book closed. “The only woman I’ve ever imagined a future with, my father, and my best friend. Countless others who sacrificed themselves for me because they believe in a destiny I know barely anything about. Too many people, Arthur. And if you want to keep anyone else from dying, I suggest you distract Agravaine while I work on this spell.”

“Agravaine?”

“He’s working for Morgana. Unless you know someone else aside from the two of us who knew about using magic to heal your father, and who had enough time to procure that necklace that almost killed the king. If you want evidence, I have nothing. If you want other times I either spotted Agravaine working against Camelot or suspect as much, I have a list the length of Excalibur.”

“What’s-?”

“Sword forged in dragon’s breath. It’s yours when I get to it. I left it embedded in a giant stone in a forest somewhere. I’m unsure about the exact location. Only you or I can retrieve it.”

“You left a sword in a stone and proceeded to lose said stone?”

“Well, I tossed it in a lake first, so the stone’s an upgrade.”

Arthur shakes his head. “When did you move it?”

“After I needed it to slay an immortal army. That time with Morgause and the Cup of Life. Uther used Excalibur once, but it wasn’t meant for him, thus the lake tossing.”

“A natural reaction.”

“You act rationally after a literal dragon yells at you. If I couldn’t block fire, I’d be a roasted warlock.”

“You can fight a dragon. Of course you can.”

“I can control dragons. Couldn’t back then, but now it’s as easy as breathing.” I reopen the book. “It’s all in that list of crimes against Camelot. Go read that while I do my thing.”

“You realise I’m the one who gives orders to you, right, Merlin?”

“You’re welcome to stand there silently while I illegally practise magic in front of you. But I think feigning ignorance will be a little harder if you’re caught with me, _sire_.”

Arthur stands up. “I think I’ll review that list.”

“Of course, sire.”

He swats the back of my head. “Do try to actually mean it for once.”

“You’re the only King in my eyes, therefore the only one I’ll mean it for.”

“You meant in then, as Dragoon? That you’ve never seen my father as your king?”

“The only lie I told you from the moment of healing your father to now, was that we first met in your chambers.”

Arthur straightens at that. “Tell me when you’re ready to remove the enchantment.”

“Am I excused from my normal duties until then, sire?”

“Just this once.”

I reopen the book, hiding my grin behind it. Arthur leaves my room muttering again about rubbish hiding places.

*

Turns out, it wasn’t Morgana who did the enchantment, but a merchant who wanted the King to reduce taxes. Arthur was the one who retrieved Uther’s crown, claiming that such an unpolished thing was unfit for the King of Camelot’s head, and promptly shoving it my way to fix. So not only did I perform a frankly powerful spell that even Morgana would struggle with, I also polished the King’s crown while Uther’s own manservant watched me with unbridled anger. I overheard the merchant responsible muttering about failed enchantments, while I was mucking out the stables afterwards. And if I happen to threaten him into helping me with the stables before turning him in to Arthur, well, that’s what he gets for having such a boring reason for such a dangerous enchantment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I considered having the list as a bunch of scrolls, with Arthur thinking it's just the one before Merlin dumps the rest on his desk, but the book is more practical.


	5. Divided Duties

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait. This chapter was difficult to figure out, and the recent heat (Summer plus heatwave equals temps pushing 40 Celsius) makes typing for long periods uncomfortable.

**ARTHUR**

Merlin’s refused to meet my eyes all morning. He keeps glancing at the book he gave me like it’s about to suddenly attack him. I haven’t had time to read any of it with all the extra duties Father’s been giving me lately. Merlin finishes polishing my armour and marches across my chambers. He opens the book with a flash of gold eyes, flicking through the pages and marking certain ones with a gold dragon insignia unlike Camelot’s crest. Merlin pauses halfway through the book. He clenches his fists and shakes his head, before marking a particularly bright dragon on that page and closing it.

“You need to read every page that I marked,” he says gravely.

I put down a report on outer village bandit attacks. “Is there any reason why you’re suddenly ordering me around, Merlin?”

“I promised not to lie to you.” He meets my eyes with the kind of intensity I’ve only recently recognised as a sign of his very real power. “I need to do something that you would never approve of. The only way you could possibly understand why is if you read those pages. If anything in that list were going to make you hate me the most, it’ll be that last marked page. I only request you read the ones before it to understand why I had to do what I had to do, and why I need to do what I must now.”

I take the book. “And you won’t tell me what until I read this?”

Merlin tenses more and slowly nods as if it pains him to wait.

“Is somebody’s life in danger if you wait?”

“No. There was … someone who tried doing what I want to do for very different reasons, but I dealt with him. I’d prefer you read quickly though, sire.” Merlin forces a smile. “I might not be able to hold myself back for much longer.”

“Yes, because you’re clearly a master of self-control.”

“Uther’s alive, isn’t he? Even after all he’s done to my family.”

“What-?”

“Just read the list, Arthur.”

I shake my head. “You really shouldn’t keep ordering me so much.”

Merlin shrugs. “That’s nothing compared to everything else I’ve done.”

“And what you want to do now?”

“You’ll find out when you finish reading.” He stares at the book, guilt, apprehension and resignation in his expression. “If you let me live long enough to tell you.”

Merlin turns on his heel, sweeps my armour into his arms with magic and cross my chambers. He pauses at the door. “Whatever you choose to do, Arthur, you’ll still be my king.”

What could Merlin possibly have done that was so bad?

I push the report aside and open the book. The dragon insignia is familiar, even if it’s so different from Camelot’s crest, but where else could I have seen a golden dragon?

‘ _The first time I heard Kilgharrah was my first night in Camelot. I still sometimes wonder if it would’ve been better to ignore his call. Surely, I would’ve heard about our destiny from someone else eventually. But Kilgharrah’s always been a stubborn ass, and it was only a matter of time before I answered the Great Dragon’s call.’_

I think I already know what’s on that final page. Merlin was right to be scared.

*

Two guards slam my chamber doors open and search for a threat. I stab my sword through the overturned table.

“Get Merlin,” I order.

They nod and leave, not daring to comment on my thrashed chambers. A servant passes the open doors. I hurl a goblet at the wall next to him. He scurries away. Nobody else risks passing my chambers, not even any knights. Father will have already heard about this. Good. He won’t question what I do to that traitor when he shows his face. I should’ve known from the start. Who else would be idiotic enough to purposely release... I throw another goblet. It doesn’t hit the wall.

Merlin stands in the doorway, flanked by the two guards, and holding the goblet.

“You asked to see me, sire?”

“Leave us,” I bark at the guards.

They bow and close the doors behind Merlin. The traitor glances around the room unsurprised. He places the goblet on the floor and meets my glare with grim resignation.

“Why?” I ask.

Merlin steps towards me, undeterred by the sword I point his way. “You already know, Arthur.”

“Don’t call me that!”

His eyes turn gold. I grip my sword tighter as if that could stop him from tearing it from me with a flick of his gaze. Merlin doesn’t disarm me though. He strides across my chambers, eyes bright with power, and kneels before me.

“You already know my crimes, my king. You already know why I did it. If you have decided that my actions are unforgivable then kill me now.” He looks me in the eye. “But don’t waste my time with questions of the obvious.”

I rest my sword on his shoulder. Merlin bows his head again.

“What could possibly be worth telling me?”

Merlin raises his head, unrelenting determination in his golden eyes. “Your trust. The tiniest chance that magic will one day be free. A dragon egg locked away in a tomb that I now have the complete key to unlock.”

“ _If_ I let you live today, would you swear to me to destroy that key?” I ask.

A flash of anger crosses his expression. “No.”         

“You dare decline my generous offer?”

“I have to do this, Arthur.”

“You would bring another one of those creatures of destruction into this world?”

Merlin doesn’t even hesitate. “Yes. Letting that egg go unhatched would go against my every instinct. I have to go to the tomb. I have to save that egg. I have to deliver it to Kilgharrah. If I don’t do this, Arthur, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.”

“And yet you waited until after I had read all about how easily this Kilgharrah manipulated you for years before asking this of me?”

“I promised to tell you about these things. I am not about to destroy whatever tentative trust you have in me by going behind your back to do this, my king.”

I withdraw my sword. Merlin unclenches his jaw.

“I don’t trust you,” I spit. “I don’t know if I ever can after what you did.”

Merlin recoils.

I toss my sword aside. “Clean up this mess. We leave after dark. You have until we reach that tomb to convince me not to destroy the monster egg.”

For a moment, Merlin looks as though he’s about to attack me. His eyes fade to their usual blue and he twists his expression from an angry scowl to reluctant subservience.

“Thank you, sire.”

I grab the book that narrowly avoided being pierced by my dagger. I shouldn’t have let it go unread for so long. It’s time I reviewed Merlin’s crimes start to finish.

*

It was surprisingly easy to convince the King to allow a hunting trip without a knight escort. Though that might be because even he knows how much my manservant despises such trips, and everyone in the castle heard that my rage was targeted solely on Merlin. Said warlock repaired the furniture in my chambers with a flick of his hand and a scowl when he thought I wasn’t looking. I spent the remaining afternoon reading the list responsible for my loss of control.

Merlin doesn’t so much as blink at me bringing the book on our journey to the Tomb of Ashkanar. He also doesn’t try to convince me to not destroy the egg. I set the book down after reading about the unicorn incident. Merlin passes me dinner without meeting my eyes.

“Why are you not begging me to spare the dragon egg?” I ask.

“If the countless times I’ve saved your life, and the rest of Camelot, don’t convince you, then nothing will. Releasing Kilgharrah was one of the worst mistakes of my life. I-.”

“Then why did you let him live?” I cut in.

Merlin sighs. “I thought I already made that much clear in the book.”

“Because he’s a valuable asset?”

“Because he was the last connection to my father, to my heritage as a dragonlord. Because he was the last of his kind. To kill him then, even after all that he had done, it would be like killing a part of myself. And after what I did to Morgana and losing my father, I just couldn’t do that.”

“And now? This egg would be a connection.”

Merlin’s eyes flash gold. The fire turns the same colour.

He glares at me. “Kilgharrah will never hurt Camelot again. He’s under my control now. Even without my orders, he has more than made up the lives he stole. I am the only one who could kill him, and I won’t. I’d sooner bow to Uther than erase all the knowledge Kilgharrah carries because you don’t think he’s served his punishment. You may have power over me, Arthur, but that does not mean you have the right to choose whether a dragon lives or dies.”

The fire flickers brighter and returns to its natural state.

“You agreed to let me decide whether to destroy this egg,” I remind him.

Merlin laughs. “I agreed to let you join me, sire. The only way you will be destroying that egg is if you kill me first. I won’t fight you for it. Kilgharrah is under orders to not avenge my death if you decide that my actions are unforgivable. You and Camelot will be safe from his wrath.”

“Why are you so eager to die at my hand?”

“I don’t want to die, but if giving you that choice is the only thing that will earn your trust back, then I’ll do what I must.”

I look down at the book. “You love dragons as much as you do unicorns?”

“More. They’re my kin as much as my mother and father.”

“Will you swear to me that this new dragon will be under the same orders as Kilgharrah to not attack Camelot?”

“I swear it.”

I meet Merlin’s eyes. “Don’t make me regret this.”

He smiles. “Thank you, Arthur.”

“Yes, well, it seems I may owe you my life several times over.”

Merlin’s gaze drops. “When you reach Freya… Just don’t talk to me about it. Living it once was hard enough. Writing it… Know that I forgave you years ago and leave it at that.”

I stop myself from asking what I might’ve unknowingly done that needs forgiving in the first place. “And Lancelot? He knew all that time and never-.”

“Lancelot died for both of us, Arthur. Never doubt his loyalty.”

“I haven’t. For either of you.”

I may not be able to trust him right now, but when it comes to Merlin’s unflinching loyalty, that’s the one thing I can be sure of.

*

Merlin hasn’t glanced away from the egg for more than five seconds. It’s hardly surprising that he hasn’t looked away once he hatches Aithusa, not even as the Great Bloody Dragon himself chuckles at Merlin’s behaviour. Kilgharrah is surprisingly civil in my presence, most probably too distracted by his own happiness over Aithusa. Merlin doesn’t look like he’s willing to part with the baby dragon. It’s going to be a problem, isn’t it? After five minutes straight of Merlin making faces at the baby dragon, I clear my throat.

“You can’t bring it back to the castle.”

Are you coming back to Camelot? Or are you choosing the dragon over our supposed destiny together?

He doesn’t respond, instead making cooing noises at Aithusa.

I roll my eyes and smack the back of his head.

Merlin tears his eyes away from the baby dragon. “What?”

“I _said_ you can’t bring it back to the castle.”

The warlock looks offended. “I’d never put Aithusa in that kind of danger. If Uther ever knew…” He shivers. “I’d end up revealing my magic to protect her.”

I was right then.

“Father would order me to hunt you both,” I point out.

“Don’t worry, sire. You wouldn’t be able to catch us.”

How can you be so calm about this?

“But you promised that you wouldn’t leave Camelot. Yet if it came to it, now you’re saying that this dragon is more important than all the years you’ve dedicated to protecting this kingdom?”

Merlin shakes his head, grinning. “I’m not about to leave your side, you prat. Aithusa will stay with Kilgharrah, far away from Camelot and your father. I’ll have to spend whatever free time I can find to get updates on her, but…” His smile falters as he looks back at the white dragon. “I certainly won’t be performing all the duties a dragonlord should. Maybe if you choose to accept magic years from now, I’ll be better for her, but not now, not with Morgana out there going against everything I do.”

“Oh. I thought…”

“I’m as likely to abandon my king as Gwaine is to willingly stay sober for a year.”

I cross my arms. “As you should. I won’t accept any less than the most powerful sorcerer ever as my guard against all magical threats.”

“Does that title include a pay rise?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, _Mer_ lin.”

“But I just hatched an egg. That makes me a father, sire. Surely, you wouldn’t let a new father go underpaid.”

Kilgharrah laughs. “You need to work on your manipulating, young warlock.”

“I’m sure you could teach him a thing or two,” I mutter.

Merlin turns his attention back to Aithusa. “Don’t listen to your uncles. They don’t know what they’re talking about.”

I freeze. Twice today Merlin offered to let me kill him, and he considers me a brother? I don’t have it in me to deny the casual claim. Certainly not with Kilgharrah giving me a knowing look. How can a bloody dragon look knowing anyway? I swear, the more time I spend with Merlin and his magic, the more ridiculous my life gets. I’m not entirely opposed to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't resist putting Aithusa into this fic; plus I'm following some canon plot points while keeping Uther in as king instead of Arthur right now.


	6. Agreeing with Uther Pendragon

**MERLIN**

Arthur has been… Well, he’s been acting every bit the Crowned Prince of Camelot he’s meant to act, which is to say, like a giant prat. Every single time I get back from visiting Aithusa, he has a list of tasks for me to do around the castle that stretches from one end of his chambers to the other. I can’t even do most of the tasks with magic because they’re in absurdly public locations. He’s not acting like this because of Aithusa though. No, Arthur takes the time I’m visiting her to read through my list of crimes.

Suffice to say, he’s not particularly happy about how many attempts on his life there’s been.

To make matters worse, Agravaine has been taking advantage of Arthur being distracted to try stirring up anger between the ‘commoner’ knights and the noble knights. Gwaine has been complaining about it whenever I’m sent to drag him up from the tavern, or whenever I’m working throughout the castle, or whenever he’s meant to be training. I just wish he’d stop suddenly, and loudly, changing the topic when Arthur is in hearing range. The prat doesn’t need to think that I’m still trying to keep secrets from him.

Uther has demanded that Arthur dine with him alone tonight, well, alone apart from servants, which means the same thing as far as Uther’s concerned. Agravaine’s face at being obviously excluded was worth Arthur snapping at me to pay attention. What I’m not sure about is why Arthur’s suddenly acting like a meal with his father is the worst thing to happen since I hatched a dragon. He’s pacing his chambers, while I’m _trying_ to get him ready, tossing his furniture aside because it was ‘looking at him wrong.’        

“Arthur, I have never in my life enchanted your furniture!” I snap, using his moment of surprise to get a tunic over his head. “Your boots, yes, your armour, more times than I can count, but your furniture? I can guarantee that it isn’t looking at you wrong because there is absolutely no magic imbued in any of it.”

Arthur stares at me incredulously. “My _boots_?”

I huff. “Them suddenly changing spots is a good way of distracting you. Stop gaping, and tell me why you’re acting so strange. And don’t you dare claim that someone’s enchanted you because I check that at almost every candle mark. I am not going through another pair of Sidhe trying to drown you in a lake again.”

Arthur’s expression softens, letting the worry his annoyance was covering show. He drops onto his bed, face first, like I wasn’t just trying to get him ready.

“This is the first time I’ll be alone with my father since I found about Kilgharrah.”

I try, and fail, to tug him into a sitting position. “You realise that I’m going to be there, right? And Uther’s manservant. So you aren’t actually going to be alone, even if for royals and nobles, servants are meant to be practically invisible or something ridiculous.”

“Just because you’re the worst manservant in all of Albion-.”

“Arthur, it’s going to be fine. Your father isn’t going to suddenly know that you’re keeping secrets from him. You’re not nearly as bad as Gwaine when he’s trying to be subtle.”

Arthur flops onto his back. “What has Gwaine been gossiping with you about anyway? Before my birthday, I’d say it was some shared antics that you two got up to in the tavern, but now I know you rarely have time to go down there, even if it’s to drag that drunkard’s behind back to the castle.”

“He isn’t planning on dragging me to a random quest if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“You say that like he’s done it before.”

I laugh. “Those times are mostly all on my list. If I were an ordinary servant, Gwaine and I would be dead many times over.”

Arthur finally sits up. I take the opportunity to get his jacket on.

“Does he know?” Arthur asks.

“I certainly haven’t told him, but…” I shrug. “I’m pretty sure Gwaine suspects. He hasn’t said anything though.”

“He wouldn’t.”

“Suppose so.”

He hasn’t said anything to anybody else about his noble blood either, but that isn’t my secret to tell.

I manage to drag Arthur back to his feet and start putting the final touches on his formal wear. “Gwaine’s just a little worried about some of the older knights trying to exclude him, Percival, and Elyan,” I say. “I wouldn’t confront the other knights, if I were you though. It’s probably best for them to handle it themselves. Leon has stopped any outright fistfights or duels from happening yet, and the noble who prompted it all should be leaving the castle soon enough.”

“And which noble has taken offense at how I choose my knights?”

“Is that a trick question, Arthur? Last time I so much as implied a noble was in the wrong, you had me in the stocks for three days.”

“That was different, _Mer_ lin. You were acting suspicious of my uncle of all people.”

I try not to roll my eyes. Key word: try.

Arthur swats the back of my head. “I saw that.”

“Did you want to know who Gwaine overheard belittling your knights, or not?” I ask.

“Didn’t know you knew words like belittling,” he says while belittling me.

I shove Arthur’s crown into his hands and fold my arms. “Funnily enough, I am the most powerful being in all of Albion and not just some illiterate peasant from a tiny village on the outskirts of Essetir. I happen to need to know the meaning of words, so that I can understand my magical and medical tomes because I don’t know if you noticed, _sire_ , but I am a fully trained physician as well. Now, did you want to know which noble has been sowing the seeds of dissent in your knights, or would you rather live on in ignorance?”

“Well, it can’t be Agravaine this time because he’s not leaving the castle soon, so who’s going to be on the other side of my lecture about respecting their Crown Prince’s decisions?”

“He’s not?” I ask. “I thought with your regency over that-.”

“Wait, it _was_ Agravaine then?” Arthur interrupts.

I shrug. “I’m sure it sounds like I have some sort of vendetta against him, but that’s what Gwaine said, and yes, he was sober at the time. I mean, after that he drank half the tavern dry, but he was sober when overhearing and telling me about it. As sober as Gwaine can ever be in any case.”  
“We’re going to be late,” Arthur says, sidestepping me and the topic.

I sigh and follow Arthur out the door, returning the furniture to their places with a spared thought as the chamber doors close behind me. If Arthur happens to notice my eyes flash gold for a moment, he doesn’t say anything, marching ahead to the dining hall in complete silence.

*

Uther is as pleasant as ever, picking apart every little thing Arthur did during his regency, even though the king was too caught up in Morgana’s betrayal for little over a year to take notice of anything beyond his chambers. It isn’t until Uther gets onto the topic of Agravaine that I stop gritting my teeth and start paying proper attention. I just hope it isn’t the complete opposite for Arthur. The prat’s loyalty to his family would be something to be commended if his family didn’t keep taking advantage of it.

“I think it’s time for Lord Agravaine to return home,” Uther says. “Now that I have finished my leave from the throne, there is no need for his kind of input in person.”

I agree with Uther Pendragon. I actually agree with him. What has my life become?

“But, Father, the Lord Agravaine has offered invaluable advice during my regency. Surely, he deserves a more permanent position in court.”

Uther laughs. “I raised you better than to rely on others, Arthur, especially nobles who come to the castle at your weakest moments. Ygraine’s brother or not, Lord Agravaine has never been one that I would call trustworthy. It is my fault that he came to this castle, and I shall be the one to ensure that he leaves before the week’s end.”

“But-.”

“You’re not about to disregard your king’s decision, are you, Arthur?”

Arthur hangs his head. “Of course not, Father.”

“Excellent, now remind me why you thought it was a good idea to knight four commoners.”

And back to wishing Uther would hand over the throne to the rightful ruler of Camelot. At least Agravaine won’t be a problem for much longer, and it’ll take a while for Morgana to get herself another spy. I’ll have to start checking anyone who regularly comes close to Arthur for enchantments once she hears the news. Well, checking more thoroughly than normal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I knew that starting to post this fic without having any sort of chapter outline was a bad idea, I had no idea that I’d end up not updating for six months. I’m working on a proper plan now, so hopefully I won’t go longer than a fortnight between updates again.


	7. Breaking the News

**ARTHUR**

Father has declared that I will be the one to break the news to the Lord Agravaine. I’m almost entirely sure that doing so is another of the King’s tests to ensure that I follow his orders regardless of personal sentiment. It has been a while since Father’s last test after all. He’ll most likely feel the need to make up for any missed lessons from the time he was absent from the throne. If it’s a choice between dismissing my uncle from his duties in the castle and keeping Sirs Elyan, Gwaine, and Percival knighted, then the choice is simple.

Agravaine will always have his estate and be able to visit the castle.

I sent Merlin to the armoury when I invited Agravaine to my chambers for the discussion. It wouldn’t send the right message if I had anyone intruding on a private discussion, even if it is just Merlin. I’m not sure my uncle yet understands the extent of my manservant’s loyalty. I’m not quite sure I fully understand it on most days myself, and I have a literal book of the many times Merlin has sacrificed himself in some way for the good of Camelot, or when my life is in danger. Agravaine arrives in my chambers two candle marks after breakfast, with a warm smile on his face.

“Arthur,” he greets. “I have heard rumour about some of those more recently knighted stirring up trouble with their more experienced peers. Perhaps you would like me to have a word with them and handle this matter.”

Maybe Merlin got it the wrong way around with who’s causing trouble with who. I’ll be sure to talk to Leon about it. He’s bound to be more objective in the matter. Merlin rarely is when it comes to Gwaine, and while I would like to trust my uncle, he does happen to be one of many nobles to take preference with the older knights.

“That won’t be necessary, Uncle. Sir Leon is handling the matter for me already.”

“Ah, Sir Leon. He has been a knight since you were first learning to swordfight, has he not?”

“He has, but I didn’t call you here to discuss my best knight.”

Agravaine smiles. “Of course, not. What is it, Arthur? You know I am always here for you, whether it be troublesome times or peaceful.”

“I know, and I am thankful for that.”

His smile drops. “I am sensing a ‘but’.”

“It’s nothing to worry about, I assure you. It’s just that Father and I were discussing my regency over dinner last night, and, while you have been a truly wonderous advisor during the King’s absence from the throne, Camelot no longer requires you at her heart. It has been decided that you would be better served returning to your estate by the end of the week to ensure that we have our strongest borders so soon after an almost successful attempt on the King’s life.”

“Have I not given you adequate advice over the past year?” Agravaine asks.

“You have.”

“Then why has the King seen fit to dismiss me? Honestly please, Arthur, instead of a pitiful attempt at averting blame. I believe I deserve that much.”

If I tell him the truth, then Agravaine could attempt to overthrow the throne in his anger, and he’d have the support of the council. My uncle has made plenty of allies among the other nobles. With their help, he could put Camelot to ruin in his rage. It’s not an impossibility after what his brother did when Mother passed. If my families are to remain united, then my mother’s last living relative cannot gain a reason to quarry with Father. Today, I must take the blame. When it comes for my time to take the throne permanently, then I’ll explain to Agravaine what I had to do, and hopefully, he’ll accept my apology.

“I told my father how grateful I was for you taking up the position of advisor in a time of turmoil, yet I worried for your estate, close as it is to Camelot’s border with Caerleon. Now that the King has returned to his throne, I thought you would have preferred to return home.”

“Well, nephew mine, this only proves how desperately you need my continued advice. After all, you cannot believe that a Lord as experienced as I would be so careless as to leave his estate defenceless for months. I have been ensuring that everything there has been running smoothly for every day that I have spent in the castle. There is no need to rush ahead into foolish decision-making without bothering to simply ask your dear uncle what he thought of the matter. It is lucky that the King made a miraculous recovery. Who knows what kind of trouble you could’ve already gotten Camelot into with your reckless choices.”

I try not to hang my head like some sulking child.

Agravaine’s expression softens. “Really, Arthur, there’s no need to be sullen. You’re still young, inexperienced. You’re bound to still be making mistakes. That’s why I’m here. To make sure you don’t hurt the kingdom while you learn to be a stronger King, like your father is.”

But I can’t tell him the truth now. It’ll make my decision sound like I’m a liar, rather than protecting Father. I’ll just have to take the fall by acting like a… What does Merlin call me? I’m pretty sure it was ‘a royal prat’.

I straighten. “Are you implying that the Crown Prince of Camelot, the very same one that slayed the Great Dragon, protected this kingdom from the traitor Morgana on multiple occasions, and journeyed through the Perilous Lands unassisted, is somehow inexperienced? Tell me, _Uncle_ , how many times have you risked your life to save this kingdom? Spare me the days you served as a knight, for we both know that those occasions were as few as you could manage without being declared a coward.”

My closest knights, Merlin, and Guinevere always manage to forgive me for having to play the part. Surely, my own uncle will when I become King. He’ll understand this was all to protect the stability of Camelot. The kingdom always comes first. It’s what I’ve been taught since the day I was born.

Agravaine’s demeanour completely changes from concerned uncle to offended noble.

“I see,” he says. “Tell me just this, sire, was your worry over my estate merely a façade that you thought up yourself, or did you need the King to instruct you in what to say to sound like you had even a semblance of skill in diplomacy?”

“My worry was genuine,” I answer. “Though that does not change the fact that Father has agreed with me, and you will be leaving Camelot by the week’s end with a personal escort from my best knights and myself.”

“Is that a threat, Nephew?”

“Of course not, Uncle. The late Queen’s brother deserves only the best protection Camelot can provide.”

 “I was wrong about you, my prince. Over this past year I thought you were more Ygraine’s son than Uther’s. Now I see that you resemble your mother only in her features and your father only in his worst traits.” Agravaine shakes his head. “Tell the King that I am eternally grateful for his recovery. It would’ve been a dark day indeed should the throne have passed over to his heir.”

With that, Agravaine leaves my chambers, scowling at an eavesdropping Merlin who quickly scurries inside before the doors can slam shut.

“That sounded intense,” Merlin says, hands behind his back.

“Is every single sword in the armoury shining?” I ask.

The warlock shrugs. “If you look at them the right way.”

“ _Mer_ lin.”

“I knew how hard that was going to be for you, Arthur, so forgive me if I’d rather be here, making sure my friend was okay, than polishing a bunch of swords that other servants are in charge of maintaining.”

“You don’t even like my uncle. In fact, you’ve been positively giddy since my father announced Agravaine would be leaving.”

Merlin passes me a platter of my favourite fruits that he was holding behind him.

“Well, considering I saved Morgana’s life, even when I knew she was evil; working against Camelot; and had tried to kill me at that point, just because I couldn’t stand how sad you and Gwen were over the witch being on her deathbed, I’d say I’m pretty good at still feeling empathy when it comes to someone you and I disagree about.”

I almost wish I hadn’t read enough of Merlin’s list to understand what he means. We still need to discuss Merlin believing too much in visions of the future. Thus far, he’s ended up fulfilling the prophecies by acting on them. But that’s a topic for another time, hopefully, before someone shows ‘Emrys’ another glimpse into the future.

“Do you think Agravaine will hold this against me when I take the throne?” I ask, setting down the platter for now.

“If he truly cares about you, then he’ll understand. If he doesn’t, then it’s better you find out now, rather than when you are King, and he uses your loyalty to family against you.”

 “You’ve thought about this,” I comment.

Merlin half-shrugs. “I think about the motives of every new person who enters your life, Arthur. Too many of them have tried to kill you in the past for me not to.” He smiles tiredly. “And I think over the motives and loyalties of the people who regularly see you as well. I’ve stopped a number of people who thought to smuggle some enchanted object over a perceived slight, despite years of loyalties before that moment. Most of the time I don’t even need to use magic to do it, so it won’t appear in the list.”

“And what happened to these would-be-traitors?”

The warlock grins. “I sic Gwaine on them.”

“Gwaine? Are you jesting?”

“Course not. Gwaine’s the best at annoying people into submission; intimidating them; challenging them to an honour duel; tormenting them through pranks; or tricking them into earnestly defending you by subtly, and sometimes not so subtly, insulting you.”

Probably best that I don’t think about that, at all.

“And what did you do before becoming one half of the nightmare pair?” I ask.

“Gwen and I would-.”

“On second thought, I don’t want to know.”

Merlin smiles what I’m sure he thinks is innocently. “Aren’t you going to eat, sire?”

I narrow my eyes at the platter. “You haven’t … done anything to it, have you?”

“Of course, not, sire. Wherever could you have gotten that idea from?”

“That shifty look about you for starters,” I say.

Merlin grabs an apple from the platter and bites into it.       

“See,” he says, mouth full of apple, “nothing wrong with the food.”

“Just your ability to eat with your mouth closed.”

Merlin swallows. “I knew there was something Gaius was still annoyed with.”

“It couldn’t at all be the state of your room.”

“Nah, that just hides all the forbidden magical artefacts better.”

I sigh. “How you are still alive, I will never know.”

“Mostly Gaius, luck, Gaius, knowing a dragon, Gaius, and occasionally the best swordsman in all of Camelot. I guess you’ve helped once or twice too.”

“I _am_ the best swordsman in Camelot!”

Merlin shrugs. “If you say so, sire, but there is Gwaine to contend with. At least you’ll always be the greatest king in all of Albion.”

“Thank y-.”

“Gwaine would be a terrible ruler after all. Maybe Leon could have a go one day. I reckon Leon would be an excellent king.” Merlin grins. “Never as good as you though, Arthur. There’ll never be another king like you.”

I’m not sure how to respond to all of that at once, so I slap Merlin upside the head and sit at my table. Merlin just laughs and lounges in the chair across from me.

“If my father walked through that door, he’d have you in the stocks, _Mer_ lin.”

“Good thing I always know when someone’s about to come in, then.”

“Your magic tells you that?” I question.

Merlin shakes his head, grinning. “My ears do.”

“I suppose as big as they are, they must do something.”

“For that, I’m taking another apple,” Merlin declares.

I grab his wrist. “I thought this platter was to cheer _me_ up, not thieving manservants.”

Merlin’s eyes flash gold. The apple appears in his other hand. He slowly takes a bite. I release his wrist with a roll of my eyes and grab the final apple for myself.

“Are you?” Merlin asks, this time swallowing before speaking.

“Am I what?”

“Cheered up?”

“As much as one can be with the worst manservant in all of Camelot.”

Merlin beams. “So better off than anyone else than.”

Most probably.

“Impossible,” I lie.

The idiot warlock keeps on smiling though, so I suppose he hears the truth regardless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this a lot easier now that I actually know where the story's going.


	8. The Backlash

**MERLIN**

Agravaine is finally going to be leaving Camelot in two days. Trouble is, he’s seemed to have taken it upon himself to be the most entitled noble the castle has ever seen. At least he’s been acting like that to all of the servants. I’ve swapped tasks with three different servants that Agravaine was trying to have thrown into the dungeons for some make believe error, including a distressed Gwen. She insisted that it wasn’t necessary, but she’s the least likely for Arthur to get mad at if he sees her doing something he assigned me. I thought about just telling Arthur what’s been going on, but it’s only for the next two days, and he was feeling bad enough over his last talk with his uncle, so I figured that considering I’m not using magic, I don’t have to tell him about it.

There’s just one little problem with my plan. Agravaine seems to know that I have no intention of telling Arthur what he’s been up to. And he’s been taking advantage of it.

I finish hauling up the final bucket of water after Agravaine claimed that the temperature wasn’t quite right for the third time. I’ve considered just magicking it right, but then I’d have to mention something to Arthur about it, and then he’d ask questions, so I just resign myself to doing it manually. I can’t wait until Arthur finally trusts me enough to use magic without having to tell him _every single time_. I get that the prat needs time to accept everything, but I’m still not sure he realises just how restricting it is to not use magic as often as before. I hope he hasn’t forgotten about it with this whole Agravaine mess.

Agravaine tests the water again and grimaces. “It still isn’t right, but I have a meeting soon, and I doubt you’ll be able to manage any better. Why Arthur sees fit to keep you in his employ, I’ll never know.”

“Will you be needing anything else, milord?” I ask, somehow keeping the sarcasm at bay.

“Yes, actually. My armour needs polishing before the day’s end. The King has agreed to a friendly spar tomorrow, but I’m afraid that it almost looks like someone has dragged my armour through the mud and left it there to harden,” Agravaine says, sending me an accusing glare, even though I’m sure that he did it himself. “My chainmail needs to be repaired as well. I expect you to do it yourself, boy. No pushing off your responsibilities to another just because you’re feeling lazy.”

“Of course, milord.”

Agravaine spits at me, actually _spits_ at me. “Get out of my sight.”

I bow and leave his chambers, my jaw clenched. A bunch of older knights barge into me in the corridor, one of them going as far to shove me to the ground while the others jeer. I merely stand back up and walk away, the same way I have every other time I’ve left Agravaine’s presence in the past couple of days. No matter what Arthur seems to think, I’m not actually an idiot, and as such, I worked out after the second ‘coincidence’ of these knights passing by at the right time that Agravaine has gotten them to target me. He probably pointed out how close I am to the Round Table knights and used the other knights’ jealousy to his advantage.

And if I ever mention anything to a certain protective group of knights, then it’ll just further the divide between the Knights of Camelot. I can’t be responsible for that. Arthur’s already blaming me for so much, thanks to that list, and I know that I deserve that blame. But if I’m even somewhat responsible for a feud between his knights, then it could be the final thing that Arthur decides is one too many. It’s not like he’s made it clear what’s going to happen once he’s finished with that list. He may have been ready to accept my magic right after I’d saved his father’s life, but with the full knowledge of what I’ve done, that could still change.

I’m halfway to the armoury when I bump into two knights, literally. I apologise without lifting my gaze from the floor and try to sidestep the knights when a familiar hand clasps my shoulder.

“You alright, Merlin?” Gwaine asks.

“Yeah, of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be? I’m fine. Everything’s fine, and I’m fine. It’s all just-.”

“Fine?” Percival asks with a smile.

I grin. “Yep. Anyway, I was just heading down to the armoury, so…”

“The Princess overworking you again?” Gwaine asks. “Figured that’s why we haven’t seen you much lately.”

“Arthur hasn’t been overworking me,” I say, and I must place a bit too much emphasis on the prat’s name because the humour in their expressions fades.

“Then who has?” Gwaine asks.

I shrug. “It’s just general duties, you know. I might be Arthur’s personal servant, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have responsibilities in the castle as a whole. I’m busy with those right now. It’ll be back to normal in a couple of days.”

Gwaine folds his arms. “As in when Lord Aggravating leaves?” he asks.

I snort at the nickname.

“There are a lot of preparations involved when a long-term guest leaves the castle,” I point out. “I just happen to be the one who ended up with all the tasks involving Lord Agravaine directly.”

“Do you want us to accompany you to the armoury?” Percival asks.

“So long as you two don’t end up giving me more work,” I answer, relaxing a bit at the idea of walking between two knights.

Gwaine slings an arm around my shoulders and clasps his heart with his free hand. “I am shocked, Merlin. Truly shocked at how little you think of us.”

“Right, I forgot,” I say dryly, “you don’t actually need to be anywhere nearby to give me more work.”

“Now you’re learning,” Gwaine says, half-dragging me half-walking alongside me.

“Don’t you two have somewhere important to be?” I ask, not bothering to duck out from under Gwaine.

“We’re seeing how long it takes for Leon to realise that we’re not on patrol,” Gwaine says.

Percival shakes his head. “I’m claiming that I was trying to drag Gwaine out there the entire time.”

“You don’t seem to be doing much dragging,” I point out.

“Ah,” Gwaine says, “but then we came across a damsel in distress who was in dire need of escorting throughout the castle.”

I glare at him. “Do I look in distress to you?”

“Anyone who’s been forced into the service of Lord Aggravating would naturally end up very distressed,” Gwaine says knowingly.

“Well, I’m fine.”

“You’ve said,” Percival says. “It’s getting less believable.”

“There’s also the small problem of what Elyan overheard between you and his sister,” Gwaine adds.

I shrug. “We were just swapping duties, so she could spend more time with Arthur. It’s been a pretty normal thing for us over the past year.”

Gwaine nods. “Normally, I wouldn’t second guess that, but word is our lovely Gwen was worried about you, and that she isn’t the only servant you’ve been swapping duties with. Funnily enough, every one of them had a task that would bring them in contact with Lord Aggravating.”

This time I do duck out from under Gwaine’s arm. “You do realise that you have actual duties, right? And that those don’t involve investigating which servants are performing which tasks.”

“Merlin-”

“I know what I’m doing, Gwaine. I was dealing with noble prats long before you came to Camelot. Sure, you’ve helped me out when it was bad before, and got yourself banished for defending me, but this isn’t one of those times. I’m handling it. Agravaine isn’t that bad. And I am fine.”

“Then where’d you get that bruise?” Gwaine asks, pointing at my cheek.

I force a smile. “Tripped and fell. You know how clumsy I am.”

“Yeah, I do,” Gwaine says in a tone of someone who’s also used to making others underestimate him.

“Right,” I say, not meeting his eyes.

“Right.”

Percival clears his throat. Gwaine and I both jump.

“We’re blocking the corridor,” Percival points out.

Gwaine chuckles and slings his arm back around my shoulders. “Well, let’s get this damsel to the armoury and be on our way then.”

“If I’m meant to be the damsel here, does that mean you’re going to fight for my honour?” I ask. “Because let me tell you, knights brawling, or duelling, whatever you want to call it, in an armoury tends to give certain servants more work to do. It also makes Crown Prats grumpy, and I’d rather not be the target of Arthur’s wrath for at least the next week. I’m pretty sure I shouldn’t have an instinct to duck flying goblets and such. Gwaine hasn’t dragged me into enough barfights for that.”

“Didn’t the two of you meet in a barfight?” Percival asks.

Gwaine beams. “Yep. That time it was Merlin and the Princess who started it though.”

“Literally every single time after that has been your fault, Gwaine,” I point out.

“At least it made it easy for you to hunt me down when you needed my help.”

“It was tracking the barfights or start spreading rumours about your terrible hair.”

Gwaine gasps. “How dare you? Insulting a knight’s hair is practically treason.”

I roll my eyes. “So is denying them an apple.”

“Or not believing their made-up tales of heroics,” Percival adds.

“I’ve never made up a tale in my life,” Gwaine claims.

“What about that time you supposedly journeyed to the Perilous Lands to rescue a princess?” Percival asks. “Didn’t you claim that you did it to repay the favour of a raven-haired damsel?”

I duck my head. “That actually happened. Not that Gwaine should be ever speaking about that quest. We were sworn to secrecy after all.”

Gwaine laughs. “Completely different princess from the one we all know and love, of course. But the ah raven-haired damsel was most certainly Merlin here.”

I narrow my eyes. “How many times have you been referring to me as a damsel anyway?”

“That would be something you already knew if you stopped declining my requests to come down to the tavern with me,” Gwaine says.

“I’ve only just gotten Arthur to believe that I don’t spend all my spare time there. I don’t need to show up with an actual hangover instead of a concussion, or he’ll have me in the stocks before I can say ‘Sir Gwaine’.”

“How is it that a perfectly ordinary servant such as yourself can get concussed frequently enough for the Princess to think you spend your nights drinking?”

I shake my head. “It’s only happened occasionally, but coupled with Gaius being terrible at excuses, Arthur ended up believing I had a drinking problem for years.”

“What changed?” Percival asks.

I shrug. “I told him what I really do in my spare time. He’s still working through it all.”

“And what do you do in your spare time, Merlin?” Gwaine asks.

“Save the kingdom,” I deadpan.

Gwaine and Percival nod like this makes perfect sense. I almost say something to make it more of a joke, but then Leon and Elyan come marching down the hall, the former clearly trying to be mad, and the latter practically bursting in laughter. Gwaine squeaks and shoves me at Leon before hightailing it out of there.

“I’ll get him!” Percival yells, before bolting after Gwaine.

Leon sighs and sets into a jog, while Elyan almost trips over himself laughing as he follows. I shake my head at the knights’ antics and walk the rest of the way to the armoury with an unshakeable grin.

*

The armour wasn’t that bad, all things considered. Arthur’s managed to get his in a worse state during training several times, and I couldn’t always use magic to clean it then, so dealing with Agravaine’s armour now isn’t that difficult. His chainmail on the other hand, that is in a state so bad that if Gwen or Elyan ever saw it, they might just murder the person responsible. It’s been purposely wrecked. That much is obvious. The rust patterns aren’t natural, and they aren’t from a magical fight either. They’re the obvious result of someone wanting to create as much work as possible for whoever is in charge of repairing it.

I have to clean each individual link and reshape over half of them, so that they fit together properly. Agravaine obviously took Arthur’s jab about his lack of fighting experience to heart and decided to make it seem as though his chainmail has been through hell and back. By the time I finally finish the process, my fingertips are numb, and the rest of fingers are throbbing. My healing magic is pathetic at the best of times, so even if I wanted to explain to Arthur why I had to heal my fingers, I wouldn’t be able to do heal them in the first place.

I’m going to have to wrap them when I get back to Gaius’s chambers and hope that nobody questions it. I could always say I got them jammed in a door by accident or something. That sounds somewhat believable, doesn’t it? I stifle a yawn. At least this means I’m finished with Agravaine for the day. It’s just tomorrow, and then he’ll be leaving at the next dawn. I feel sorry for his usual serving staff. But at least they got a year-long holiday from having to deal with Lord Aggravating. Gods, Gwaine’s nickname is wearing off on me. That’s one thing I cannot slip up with, or I really will be thrown into the dungeons for insulting a noble.

The armoury door slams open, but servants, squires, and knights alike do that often enough looking for something urgent, so I don’t look up from carefully laying out the finished chainmail with Agravaine’s armour. Someone shoves past me, knocking my head on the armour rack, but again, it’s a common enough event that I don’t bother glaring at the culprit while I stumble to my feet, sighing as I wobble a bit. But then someone grabs my arm and yanks me around to face them, and that isn’t okay.

“What?” I snap, holding my throbbing fingers behind my back in a mockery of subservience.

And it’s Lord Aggravating, surrounded by a bunch of knights that I know have been complaining about ‘commoner’ knights for the past year.

“Is that really any way to speak to your better?” Agravaine asks.

I open my mouth to apologise, but then his hand cracks against my face in a sharp backhand.

“I take it you’ve finally finished your task then, boy?” Agravaine asks, like he didn’t just hit me out of nowhere.

“Yes, milord,” I choke out, my head bowed.

Agravaine laughs. “See, even the most unruly of servants can be trained with just a little bit of reinforcement.”

I snap my head back up at that. “You can’t seriously be encouraging them to treat other servants badly.”

This time when Agravaine raises his hand, I’m expecting it, but that doesn’t stop the force of his ringed hand from sending me crashing into the unforgivingly hard floor. My magic surges through my body and begs me to retaliate, but I force it back. He’s not worth the consequences if Uther finds out. Forcing Arthur to choose so soon is going to end up with me at the pyre and Aithusa hunted by the Knights of Camelot. I won’t allow it. If that means a couple of cuts and bruises, then so be it. I stumble back to my feet and meet Agravaine’s gaze.

“Nobody else,” I spit out. “You want to abuse your power so much, then here I am. But if you dare go after anyone else, I will show you just what happened to any other noble who dared try since I came to Camelot.”

The knights shuffle back at that, no doubt having heard the tales of sudden misfortune; marriages that suddenly fell through, rumours that completely decimated a noble’s reputation, and falling out of favour with the future King of Camelot to name a few. I will not be tested when it comes to the safety of my kingdom, magic or no magic. There’s a reason this hasn’t been a lasting problem before. Camelot is protected. And in these kinds of cases, I’ve never needed a drop of magic to do it.

Agravaine scoffs. “You dare threaten me, boy?”

“I do what’s necessary to protect my kingdom,” I say, narrowing my eyes. “Your dear friend Morgana knows that.”

Agravaine laughs it off, but the knights shake their heads and leave, no longer risking it. The moment the final one leaves, Agravaine snaps forward and slams me against a wall.

“You know nothing, you stupid peasant.”

I glare at him. “Do you really want to risk that, _milord_?”

“You’re nothing. You’re just some serving boy who sticks his nose into everyone else’s business. I’ve no clue how you managed to trick Arthur into keeping you around, but that won’t be a problem much longer. I’ll see you fired before I even leave the citadel.”

“And how are you going to manage that?” I question.

Agravaine smirks. “You did just threaten me in front of a group of knights.”

He tosses me to the ground and slams his boot into my ribs.

“I do believe that gives me the right to defend myself,” Agravaine says, kicking me again.

I roll away and look around for something that could ‘miraculously’ fall on his head, but Agravaine marches forward and blocks my view. He grins suddenly, dark eyes focussed on one of my outstretched hands. Gods, no. I try to yank my right hand back to my body, but, before I can, Agravaine’s boot crunches down on my fingers. Magic snaps out of me, sharp and instinctive, yet not attacking Agravaine. It surges through the castle and finds Arthur, alerting him to danger before I can stop it. I really hope nobody else is around him right now, or else they would’ve seen that stupid blue ball of _obviously magical_ light randomly circle the Crown Prince.

Agravaine thankfully doesn’t notice my eyes flash gold, probably because they were clenched closed in pain at that very moment, and he resumes his spiel about servants not knowing their places. I’m having trouble concentrating on the particulars over the roaring in my ears and the blinding pain threatening to send me into unconsciousness. I think the armoury door might slam open again, and frankly, I feel sorry for that poor thing. What did it ever do to have all these people slamming it about like doors don’t have feelings too? And wow, has Aggravating finally stopped talking? That’s nice.

“Merlin! Merlin, are you okay?”

I force my eyes open and smile at Gwaine. “This doesn’t mean you can keep calling me a damsel,” I point out, before coughing violently.

Gwaine carefully sits me up against the wall and checks over my injuries.

“What happened to Lord Aggravating?” I ask, but then I notice the noble talking to a red-faced Arthur, whose hand is resting on the pommel of his sword.

“Not that bad, huh?” Gwaine mutters, cradling over my hands.

“You _may_ have been right this time,” I admit.

“Oh, may I?”

I sigh. “Sorry.”

Gwaine shakes his head. “Don’t apologise for this, Merlin. Just trust me next time.”

“Trust has been kind of hard for me lately.”

Gwaine glances between me and Arthur with a frown, but he doesn’t say anything. I wonder for what seems to be the hundredth time whether Gwaine _knows_ , yet once again it just isn’t the right time to go into it.

“You wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with a certain blue light that had Princess sprinting down here, would you?” Gwaine whispers, because apparently it is the time to go into it.

I shrug and immediately regret it. “No idea what you’re talking about _Sir_ Gwaine. Such things would surely be an executable offense in Camelot.”

“Is Merlin alright?” Arthur asks, eyes still trained on Agravaine.

“Still an idiot,” Gwaine says, scooting over to sit next to me. “But I guess that’s just our Merlin.”

I move to swat him, but my ribs and fingers all ache at once, so I just end up shifting a little and let out a groan of pain.

“I’ll be fine, sire,” I manage to say before slumping against Gwaine.

“This is all the theatrics of an attention-seeking servant, sire,” Agravaine says. “He actually threatened me in front of a handful of your knights. I thought he was going to reach for a dagger, and I defended myself.”

“You were encouraging them to hurt other servants!” I exclaim, and descend into a coughing fit that wracks my already injured ribs.

Gwaine holds me steady until I recover, his concerned expression shifting to a sharp glare as it moves from me to Agravaine. Arthur’s expression is perfectly neutral, his Crown Prince mask holding firm.

“Really now, there’s a difference between knowing when discipline is necessary and encouraging assault,” Agravaine says dismissively. “It’s no wonder this idiot of a servant had the audacity to try attacking me.”

“I swear on Aithusa that he’s lying, Arthur,” I say.

Agravaine scoffs. “Now he’s swearing on an Old Religion deity. I had no clue that your manservant practised the forbidden arts, sire. He-”

“Aithusa’s the name of Merlin’s daughter,” Arthur interrupts, his jaw clenched, and sword drawn. “Which means he isn’t the liar here.”

“You have a daughter?” Gwaine whispers.

“Long story short: she’s a dragon. Now’s not really the time,” I whisper back.

“You can’t just say that and expect me to not have questions, Merlin,” Gwaine whisper shouts.

I shush him and risk a glance at my right hand.

“I’m gonna need Gaius,” I realise, grimacing at the broken bones.

“You’re only just realising this?” Gwaine questions.

I turn my head to glare at him, wincing at the black dots that swarm my vision. I’m pretty sure Arthur’s yelling at Aggravating right now, but the only thing I can really hear is this weird ringing noise. I try to ask Gwaine whether the castle’s under attack because the warning bell must be ringing, but my mouth just kinds of flops uselessly. I glare down at it in betrayal, well, as much as I can glare at my own mouth. It’s really blurry for some reason. No, wait that’s the room. It’s all just really bl…

*

“That’ll be his magic,” Gaius says, which is odd because he’s not meant to talk to anyone about my magic.

“Huh,” Gwaine says. “Guess my hunch was right.”

Arthur sputters; I’d recognise that sound anywhere. “You mean you figured it out?”

“Flying plates, Princess. Wyverns not attacking us, despite them being vicious bastards most the time. Merlin going out with us on ridiculous quests, without any armour, and coming back with barely a scratch. It was either magic or incredibly good luck. And the poor bugger’s stuck being your servant, so it could hardly be the second option.”

“It might’ve been a balance,” I croak, reluctantly opening my eyes to the sight of Gaius and Gwaine sitting on either side of my bed, the latter with his feet up next to mine.

Arthur’s awkwardly hovering at the door, though I’m not sure why. He did just trust my magic and help me after all. That’s always a good thing.

“But sadly, I’ve got magic _and_ bad luck,” I say.

Gwaine laughs, shaking his head. Gaius starts poking and prodding me, and weren’t my ribs meant to be hurting? Ah well. My hands seem to be better. They don’t hurt to wave around, or to smack Gwaine at all. The knight just smiles and lounges back in his chair, occasionally poking my leg with his feet. I glare at him a little and consider making his chair suddenly fall over, but something tells me that tapping into my magic right now would be a bad idea.

“What’s got Arthur so grumpy?” I ask Gwaine in a loud whisper.

“Oh, he’s just gotten into his head that the entire Lord Aggravating thing is his fault,” Gwaine answers in an equally loud whisper.

Gaius rolls his eyes at our antics. “No using magic for at least the next several hours, or you’ll find yourself experiencing dizzy spells and sudden collapsing. You’ve used a large amount in self-healing, which is a wonder in itself considering how terrible you are at that when doing it consciously.”

I shrug. “Always was better at the instinctual version of spells.”

“You’ll be fine to join the group escorting Lord Agravaine out of Camelot for his banishment,” Gaius says.

I turn to Arthur with wide eyes. “Banishment?” I question.

“Assaulting the Crown Prince’s manservant as a means to get back at the crown is a punishable offence in itself, and that, combined with several Knights of Camelot admitting that Lord Agravaine was purposely stirring discord between them and my newer knights, led to the King deciding that my uncle’s presence is no longer welcome in the kingdom. We’ll be following through on plans to escort him out of Camelot tomorrow morning.”

Tomorrow?

“Guess I slept for a bit then,” I say.

Arthur sighs. “Merlin, I want you to know that-”

“It’s alright, Arthur. None of what happened was your fault. Uther’s the one who decided to send Agravaine back to his estate, and you took responsibility for that, so there’d be less backlash against Camelot as a whole. At least now I know that the kingdom will be safe from one of Morgana’s allies.”

“One of her what?” Gwaine questions, sitting up a bit.

“He pretty much admitted it in the armoury. Well, admitted it, slammed me against a wall when I said it. Same thing, really. The point is, he never outright denied it.”

“Welcome to the world of Merlin’s logic,” Gaius says with a sigh.

Gwaine grins. “Seems like a wonderful place to me. So, what other magic can you do, Merlin?”

Arthur looks between us with an expression of dawning horror. Gaius shakes his head and leaves the room. I sit up with a wide grin that matches Gwaine’s and answer every one of his random questions about magic. If my smile happens to grow a little more when Arthur doesn’t flee my room at all the open talk about magic, but gradually starts joining in on the questions, well, I can blame it on being glad that Lord Aggravating will be leaving us tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gwaine was only with Arthur because Leon had finally managed to hunt him down (after Percival had turned on him) and the Prince was lecturing Gwaine on a Knight of Camelot’s duties.


End file.
